User blog comment:Denrael Sabretooth/Death and Darkness RPG/@comment-3135907-20120403213452/@comment-3135907-20121219213344

By a streak of ill luck Graffa, knowing nothing of the weasel archer's arrow, walks toward Atleg a few paces, so that the arrow instead pierces her chest. She looks dumbly at the bloodstained shaft for a moment before drifting backwards to the ground, which is already pooled with the shrew's blood. Atleg runs to his comrade's side and the arrow meant for him strikes the sand harmlessly a few pawsteps behind him. The fox looks up in astonishment, then makes out the beasts who have been calmly watching his activity for the past fifteen minutes.